The Boy Who Was King
by SM Productions
Summary: A fusion with the King Arthur legends, particularly The Once and Future King by T.H. White and the Disney movie, 'The Sword in the Stone'.
1. Chapter the First

**Title:** The Boy Who Was King  
**Author:** SM Productions  
**Rating:** PG  
**Character(s):** Harry, Dumbledore, Snape, the Dursleys, others  
**Disclaimer:** We don't own anything. Well, okay, there is that one pair of socks... but that's still between the two of us.  
**Summary:** A fusion with the King Arthur legends; particularly The Once and Future King by T.H. White and the Disney movie, 'The Sword in the Stone'.

**

* * *

**

**Chapter the First: **_Merlindore_

The fairies in the Knotsoshore-Wood Forest are the prettiest fairies. They dance and sing, and have nothing to do with wicked tricks like their other fairy brothers and sisters. But our story has nothing to do with the fairies, but rather the forest, in which I met our young hero for the first time.

No wait! That wasn't where the story began. Now where was it…

Ah, yes, somewhere far from Knotsoshore-Wood Forest, along a shore. As I remember it, there weren't good skipping stones on that shore. And the water matched the sky in bleak grayness until they merged into one blur of gloom in the distance. It was a boring shore, but it's not the shore we care about, nor the boats that came. Our tale begins when the invaders step off those boats and throw England into years of turmoil and chaos.

In this part of the story my hair was not quite white yet. The land was dotted with kingdoms from the Scottish north to the Gaul controlled south. Only a few good men could be found among the greedy kings. Most notably James Pendragon, who unlike his chunky gluttonous foes, stood as tall and thin as the most valiant broom stick.

Now, now, look at me, giving you the wrong idea about Old King James already. For one thing, he was much stronger than any broom stick I knew. But I supposed that is a given, isn't it?

Well, as the tale goes, I became friends with James, who wanted to become friends with Maid Lillian. Or rather, more than friends. The problem was that back then kings could do whatever they wanted, as long as they had an army to back them up. So Voldemort, a terrible dark wizard king, saw Maid Lillian and decided to whisk her away with him. Only it was less of a whisking and more of a kidnapping. Promptly following the kidnapping was imprisonment.

Poor James, it broke his heart. He had the army and force to unite all of Britain under him, but he still did not have what he wanted most, his beautiful Maid Lillian. When I could no longer bare his mournful sighs and childish pouting, I gave him my word I would bring him Lillian. It was one of the best, and worst, things I have ever done.

I thought the Dark Lord Voldemort was no match for my magic. But alas, I was still considered young and reckless then. I left his evil fortress with Maid Lillian, believing that Voldemort was dead. Through the happiness of the wedding, and the peaceful ruling of England, and finally the birth of a son, no one had any idea what evil was brewing in that forgotten fortress.

Now this, this is the part of the tale I hate to tell. Voldemort came back, and in one battle ended everything King James brought to the land. Peace and justice was slain on the battle field with my old friend. I could not save him in the same way I could not save Queen Lillian. I don't even have the credit for saving their only child, Harold. Lillian protected him until her last breathe. Voldemort must have entered the chamber just before me, for his blade was still in her back, sparking with white lightning. The child was crying, held in the arms and stench of his burnt mother.

A white rage filled me, and I can not tell you what happened for I was not my self. My magic controlled me as I tried to avenge my dear friends. I remember the child crying in the background as the spells spilled from my wand and his weight on my chest as we escaped from the castle.

Harold could not be left defenseless in a castle with an empty throne. The throne of all England, no less. Fearing the worst, I took the child to a knight of James, Sir Vernon. Enough though I was entrusting him with the child, I did not trust him enough to tell him who exactly Harold was. So the plump knight took the orphan in his castle, and promised he would raise him with his son Dudley. For eleven years I had the mistake to leave the child there, under what I thought was ample protection. My wits were finally cleared when the Dark Lord Voldemort remade his appearance into society, which a whole new army ready to clain the already ransacked Britain as his own.

Sir Vernon's castle was near Knotsoshore-Wood Forest, but you wouldn't find any fairies near it. The sounds of knightly training scared them off long ago. I did, however, find a young lad, so skinny and gangly he would make any broomstick proud.

Now, this folks, this was when I met our hero in that forest of Knotsoshore-Wood.


	2. Chapter the Second

**Chapter the Second:**_ Harry_

My foot caught under an old thick root stretched across the ground, and I fell flat on my face. I grimaced and picked myself up again, but not before tripping over the same root and crashing into nearby undergrowth. Everyone in the castle had had a say about my clumsiness at least once, and now I was beginning to agree.

I kept going, brushing aside branches and watching the ground a little more warily. Looking up, I saw that the sun, or what little of it could be seen, was soon to set.

"Great," I muttered, picking a thorn off of my tunic. "I've been searching for Dudley's stupid trap the whole day, and now I'll get caught in the dark out here." Dudley, my cousin and a soon to be knight, had set a fox trap in the forest a week earlier, but was coming down with something, and wanted me to fetch it. I say he shouldn't have eaten that entire duck at dinner last night. But that's just me.

Off to my right, I heard voices. I froze. Sir Vernon was always going on about how goblins and demons roamed Knotsoshore-Wood forest during the night. Technically, it wasn't night _yet_, but one could never be too careful. Ever so slowly, I edged to the left, forgetting about Dudley's trap. I had to get out of here before the goblins decided to make a nice sunset supper out of me.

"Leave it to you to get us lost, you old fool. Are you sure this is even the right forest? Really, if _I_ were leaving the kingdom's last hope somewhere, I would at least write a note to myself telling me where I had left it." The voice reminded me of fur rubbed the wrong way. I heard a loud sigh.

"You are right, my dear Snapeamedes, although I do wish you would not give such harsh words to your displeasure. I was careless in committing to memory the exact location of this place, but I am sure we are in the correct forest." They were looking for something. They probably knew there was a helpless victim out there somewhere, just ripe for them to eat. I swallowed, picking my way silently away from them. Well, they weren't about to find this one.

There was a loud crack, and I jumped about two feet in the air, letting out a loud yelp. In horror, I looked down, belatedly realizing I'd just stepped on a dry twig. There was a moment in which the world seemed to tilt sickeningly, and then I heard a soft chuckle that sounded way too close for comfort.

"See, Snapeamedes, I told you to trust in me. It seems the person we were looking for has found us." My eyes must have widened to their limits. Wasting no more time, I took off as fast as I could back towards the castle, not looking back and not caring how much noise I made.

Something black flew across my vision and I nearly tripped again, but managed to change direction without problems and ran the other way. Behind me, I heard an angry flap of wings, and then something heavy landed on my head. I screamed and finally fell down, getting a mouthful of soggy leaves.

"Found him," drawled a bored voice above me. I moaned in terror, trying to get my head up to plead for mercy, but whatever was on my head wasn't moving. My glasses were digging painfully into my face. My limbs felt frozen, although it was the middle of summer. I heard soft footsteps approaching and the thing on my head _shifted_. I felt...bird's claws.

"Oh, Snapeamedes, do get off the boy," I heard above me. Up close, the voice sounded much less menacing, and even a little bit...grandfatherly. Snapeamedes got off me, but I didn't move. Maybe they would think I was dead. And speaking of which, I was sure I soon would be, as the wet leaves I was lying in weren't getting any more breathable.

A gentle hand touched my shoulder and I flinched, effectively ruining my plan. "Young man, I am sorry that my raven caused you distress. We mean you no harm." Yeah, right, like I was going to fall for that. In a flash, I gathered my legs under me and was off and running. However, I was pulled back just as quickly by a death hold on my collar.

"We truly mean you no harm," the man said, and turned me to face him. He was tall and thin but his kind blue eyes and half moon spectacles made him seem kind. But still, I heard that demons could change their appearances. I looked around for Snapeamedes. _He_ had claws.

The old man brushed me off and then lifted my chin, so I had to look straight into his eyes. "Yes, this is him," he said, quietly. "Snapeamedes?" he called. I backed up a step, nervously.

"What now?" a voice called back, from somewhere above me. The old man placed a bony hand on his hip and glared skywards.

"W-what...um...you're looking for...me?" I asked, backing up another step. He looked back down at me and cleared his throat, as if getting his bearings.

"Ah yes, yes. We were. I'm afraid I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Merlindore," he said, taking the big pointy hat off his head and bringing it in front of him as he bowed. He straightened, glanced once more upwards (I heard a loud huff and a rush of wings), and a big black raven landed on his shoulder. "And this is Snapeamedes."

"Oh..." I choked out. The raven rolled his eyes. Yes, he _rolled_ his _eyes_. "Um...Mister...Percival Wolf Merlin...a-are you a magician?" I knew I sounded childish, but I couldn't make my mind form anything more intelligent. All I knew was that he had a talking bird on his shoulder. The man gazed at me in what seemed to be pride as the raven sent me a glare and proceeded to clean the feathers under his wing.

"You can call me Albus, Harry. And yes, I'm a magician. I'm the most powerful wizard of this age."

"How did you know my name?" Albus smiled.

"I know a lot about you, Harry. You see, we have met before." He slung an arm across my shoulders and sent an assessing glance at the sky. "Well, the sun is about to set, my boy. Where did you say your castle was?" I opened my mouth, and shut it again. If Sir Vernon heard me saying the castle was mine, or even _agreeing_ with someone who said so, he'd flay my hide right off. But I pointed in the right direction. Something told me I could trust Albus.


	3. Chapter the Third

**Chapter the Third**: Merlindore

"Uh, Mister Albus Peviwolf, sir…"

"Yes, what is it boy?"

"Would you be able to show me some magic, sir? I mean, it can just be something small."

"Now Harry, there is a time and place for everything. Ho, watch your step this rock is slippery! Don't want you getting wet feet." Hopping from the last stone, I landed with a 'pliff' onto the leafy bank. A splash signaled that the boy didn't listen about the rock. "Yes, see, magic can not be done willy-nilly. Stop that laughing, Snapeamedes! Oh, just ignore him, Harry. Here, take my hand. That a boy." I pulled him onto the bank, his slick grip made me almost drop him into the creek all over again. Harry pushed away his wet mod of black hair from his eyes and put his round glasses rightfully back upon the bridge of his nose.

"Y-yes sir, sorry sir." The lad's eyes were downcast, too busy wringing out his tunic to look back at me.

"Don't be sorry, Harry. And don't call me sir. Albus would do just fine."

"I'm sorry Albus, sir…" His wet clothes hung in such a way it made him appear even skinnier. Snapeamedes ruffled on my shoulder and pecked at my ear.

"Alright, alright, I'll show you something, Harry. Just a trick of what the greatest wizard could do." I patted my robe, my sleeves, and then finally took my hat off my head. My hand searched around inside, but grabbed nothing. "Oh Dear, Snapeamedes, do you recall where exactly I put my wand?"

"I wouldn't be surprised if you packed it away with your books," the raven said in a bored voice.

"I couldn't have!" I peeked inside my bag, and after shooing some of the books into the corner I found it. "You are always right about these things, my dear friend." Snapeamedes puffed out his chest, the feathers rising in pride. It only lasted a second, for soon he was back to preening his wing as if nothing happened. "Ah, seemed I shrunk it as well. This just won't do." Indeed, the wand was just a twig of a stick not nearly the length of my pink.

Harry gasped as I let go of the bag. He didn't gasp because I dropped it or anything, oh no. He gasped because it didn't drop. It stayed floating in midair, just were I left it.

I pinched each end of the wand and made to stretch it, but it just flexed and sprung back to its shrunken shape. "I say! Don't be stubborn now!" I pulled with all my might, and it did work. I'm afraid it also caused the now normal sized wand to shoot from my hands with a spark. It bounced from tree to tree, until finally hitting Snapeamedes square in the gut. The poor bird flew off with a squawk, disappearing in a poof of feathers. The wand landed in my hand with a soft 'plop'. Harry was smiling for the first time, although he was trying to hide his giggles behind his hand. His shaking shoulders threw off little drops of water.

"Sometimes it's a little irritable." I explained. His eyes light up even more. A 'humph' erupted from the trees. "Yes, I better make this quick, 'fore the sun sets. Lets see, lets see." I pushed my sleeves up and waved my wand with valor, more for show than necessity. "Arefacio!" Strikes of white and gold light twirled from the tip of the wand like smoke. They coiled and drifted to Harry, curling around his feet and swirling their way up his body. As the bands circled, slowly the wetness of the boy disappeared, until finally the magic reached his head and dried his hair into a puff of black locks.

"Harry," I couldn't hold back a chuckled at the dandelion of a boy, "you look like Snapeamedes after a bad dream!" With a shake of his head his hair fell back into it's messy state, all the strands in the same place as when we met just a while ago.

"T-thank you, Albus, sir." He looked at his hands in wonder, a small smile curving along his lips.

"Nothing to it, boy. Couldn't have you walking around at night all wet, bad for your health." And so we started to make our way back to the castle. After a few steps I stopped, and turned back to the creek. My bag was still drifting there by the bank. "Hem hem!" I called, and it whizzed through the air, returning to my side, where it stayed until we reached the castle at last.

When I use the word castle, I won't want you to be confused. It was not a castle glittering in the last light of the sun. There were no birds flying about singing their song, unless you count Snapeamedes and his complaining. This castle was not a palace. It was more of a fortress, made from slabs of now crumbled and cracked brown stones. The moat was half dried out, and all the boards of the draw bridge creaked as we walked across it. None of this bothered Harry, but the bird on my shoulder pointed out every tiny detail in full.

"It smells like hog hiss and cabbage, Ablus. You better not expect me to stay here. That window is so dirty, you can't even see out of it! I think I just got hit from something falling from the ceiling—Albus, are you listening to me?" I shushed the raven as we entered into the dining hall, where the fat knight sitting at the table could only be Sir Vernon. Or maybe it was his son, Dudley. They were both so red and bulky in size I had trouble telling.

"Um, Mister Albus?"

"Yes, Harry?"

"Maybe you should take the twigs out of your beard before I introduce you to Sir Vernon."

"Why, maybe I should. There, I think I'm ready now. What are you waiting for?" Harry left my side and walked over to his bear of a guardian. His whispers did not reach this old man's ears, but the knights bellows did.

"What? A Magician? Have you been at them mushrooms again? How many demerits am I going to have to give you for you to learn your lesson?"

"But sir, I'm not—"

"Go to the kitchen, Harry! Those dishes have been piling up." Sir Vernon's thick blonde moustache wiggled as he shouted, parts of it flying up when spit expelled from his mouth. "Don't think I'll be needing any help from you to handle this 'wizard.'" Him and his son broke out in squealing laughter. When they were finished, Sir Vernon turned to me, still wiping the tears from his eyes. "Now, magic man, what can I do for yah?" I rolled my shoulders back, straitening up all the way to the point of my hat.

"Look here you," I marched out and poked his chest, "I am Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Merlindore the greatest Wizard of all England! NOT magic man! And if you don't mind, the tutor of young Harold."

"Tutor? TUTOR?" He sputtered a little, and slapped his hand onto the table as he broke out into another fit of laughter. "You'd be better off tutoring a potatoe. I got a whole sack of 'em downstairs, so all the more fun."

"Oohh, why you! Imperis Nix!" Blue sparks shot from my wand just above Sir Vernon's head, and from the sparks fell barrels of snow. "Now look at what you made me do," I said, straightening out my sleeves and tucking my wand back into my robe pocket. Sir Vernon's moustache swept from side to side like a little broom, sweeping off the snow from his lips.

"Well I'll be, look at this Dudley! Snow in July!"

"Big deal," the boy said, unphased.

"I suppose we could make room for you in the guest tower, Alvin." His chubby thumb pointed over his shoulder and out the only clear window. Framed by dirt brown stone was an even more dirty and crumbled tower with a large chuck of masonry missing. The top part was supported only by a plank of seemingly rotting wood. It looked ready to fall at the slightest wind.

"It's Albus," I huffed, and felt Snapeamedes feathers tickle my ear as he puffed up too.

"Yes, yes. I'll have Harry bring your bag up to you later."

"Don't bother," I turned up my nose, lifted my robes, and stormed out of there. My faithbul bag followed along silently.


	4. Chapter the Fourth

**Chapter the Fourth:** _Harry_

There was no way I could have finished washing all the dishes that night, so the work carried over into the next day, and by noon, I was still nowhere near being done. I scrubbed at the mess on the bottom of the pot, ignoring the piece of hair bobbing back and forth in front of my face. I'd tried pulling it behind my ear two dozen times in the last five minutes, and it always sprang right back. By this time, I was ready to stick the glop from the pan on top of my head to hold back the hair, but I can't say I had any hope of it working.

I didn't feel resentment at Sir Vernon for him making me clean the pots. I probably would have had to clean them anyway, for one demerit or another. After living in his castle all these years, I at least knew that much.

I also knew that I wasn't Sir Vernon's son. He and Lady Petunia would often scold the memory of my "drunkard father" and "good for nothing" mother, and once, when I asked where exactly my parents were, Lady Petunia looked down her nose at me and said that they were dead, having been eaten by a troll. Dudley, eleven at the time, found the whole thing absolutely hilarious. Lady Petunia also added that I was abandoned at their doorstep and they graciously took me in because "Duddles" was lonely and wanted a playmate. But I think they just wanted a whipping boy to punish for all of Dudley's pranks and shortcomings.

Whatever the case, I'm lucky they took me in at all and I think I can take a little pot washing in return for food, clothing and shelter. I may even be allowed to be Dudley's squire when he becomes a knight. Sir Vernon said this is quite an honorable position for someone of low birth like me. I hope I don't mess it up.

I rubbed at an itch on my nose with the back of my hand and moved on to another pot, the walls of which were so sticky that my soapy scrubber only came away with effort. I sighed loudly, the sound echoing off the grimy stone walls of the kitchen. 

"Amazing!" said a voice behind me. "It's as if they've lined the whole thing with flypaper." I jumped and jerked around to face Albus Merlindore. He was smiling serenely, a finger at his lips, examining the inside of my pot.

"H-hello, sir," I mumbled, standing up. "I didn't notice you there." He stayed crouching in front of the pot, peering into it with curiosity.

"Call me Albus, my boy," he answered vaguely, not looking at me. Nodding, I sat back down, glancing from his face to the pot, wondering what was so interesting about it.

"Excuse me, si-Albus, but what's flypaper?" He had taken out his wand and was poking the walls of the pot with it. He waved his other hand in the air as he tried to explain.

"It's a sort of...eh, a bug-catcher, you see. A sticky surface that catches bugs. Won't be invented for a while, I'm afraid." The wizard mumbled something and tapped the wand against his temple in thought, leaving small patches of sticky goo on his skin and in his hair.

"Oh! Sir, you're getting--" but he paid no attention.

"Aha!" he exclaimed, and waving the wand in a loop de loop over his head, shouted, "Picatus Lum!" A thick cloud of white smoke billowed from inside the pot, and when it cleared, the pot was clean and shiny. I stared.

"Um, Albus, thank you and everything, that was a great bit of magic, but I really should be the one--" But he cut me off.

"Nonsense, my boy, you don't have time for this! Now, I believe Picatus Lum would take far too long to perform on all of this dishware, so perhaps we'd better improvise. Harry, what do you know of assembly lines?"

"Nothing, really, sir. Albus." At my answer, he scratched his beard and adjusted his half-moon glasses. He seemed almost sheepish.

"Yes, I suppose you wouldn't know much, considering Henry Ford won't be born for another nine hundred years, give or take. But I'll teach you." He stood up and rounded on the dirty mountain of dishes laying around the wash basins and threw his wand hand in the air. "The assembly line process is designed to greatly shorten the time needed for the completion of work. Each member of the assembly line," he flicked his wand and rags and scrubbers from all around the room scurried to arrange themselves in a formation, "has a specific task." He flicked his wand again and two mops from the corner dipped themselves in their water bucket, and stood at ready. "Once the process begins, each member performs his task and passes the result onto the next." He waggled his wand at the dish mountain and it rumbled menacingly. "Ready, men?" The rags, scrubbers, and brooms bobbed as if in agreement. The wash basins gave an enthusiastic slosh. "Tempatum Vicalorio!"

For a second, nothing happened. Then, a tiny tea saucer rolled off the very top of the pile and without breaking, landed on the table in front of the leftmost scrubber. The scrubber dumped itself into the soapy wash basin, scooped up the saucer and gave it an affectionate scrub in midair before bumping it into the basin with regular water. The saucer somersaulted out and landed in the grip of a rag, which dried it off and set it aside. Everything stilled.

Albus frowned. "Say, this is going to have to go a jolly lot faster, or we'll never get anywhere. And you two," he pointed at the mops in the corner, "come on." The mops gave a startled twitch, like Dudley would sometimes do when Sir Vernon found him nodding off during early morning archery practice, and started frantically swishing back and forth across the floor.

"We'd better get out of their way, lad," Albus said, and stood up on a stool, motioning for me to do the same. Then, he rolled up his sleeves and glared at the dish pile. "Now don't make me repeat myself," he scolded, shaking his wand at the dishes. Somewhere deep inside the stacks of dishes, there sounded a hollow answer like the clattering of a fork. Whatever the dishes meant to say, it probably wasn't very nice, because in the next instance, Albus huffed, his wand jerked backward and the whole pile lurched as if struck by lightning. At once, a whole cascade of dishes tumbled at the scrubbers, knocking them from their places and upsetting the first wash basin. "No, no, no," snapped the wizard, halting the avalanche in thin air with a wave of his wand. The dishes crashed into each other, but stayed still. Sighing in frustration, Albus mumbled something at the basin and it filled again, soapier than before. "Palmolive," he added, winking at me. I nodded, pretending to understand. Finally, he pointed his wand at the whole mess, and repeated the Tempatum Vicalorio spell. The dishes obediently filed in to be washed, and one by one began coming out of the other side of the assembly line, absolutely clean.

"Think of this as a lesson, Harry," Albus murmured tiredly as we walked up the stairs to the dining hall, "Magic isn't everything. There will be times when it just won't work for you. You need to have a quick mind to figure out how to proceed. Well, and some brawn, too, I suppose, but living with these brutes should teach you a bit of that on it's own." He stretched the cricks out of his fingers and peered out through one of the tall windows. "That said, it's a beautiful day outside and I would hate for us to waste any more of it than we already have. I believe it is time for a real lesson." 

I felt myself smiling as he put an arm around my shoulder and led me into the dim hallway. Then something occurred to me.

"Albus? Where's Snapeamedes?"

The wizard chuckled. "Oh, he's off sulking somewhere. He just doesn't want to teach you how to fly. Don't worry, we'll find him."


End file.
